


Tricks of the Metacrisis Mind

by cereal



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereal/pseuds/cereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes though, it all shuts down, his mind and his body in perfect bliss, because there are six types of Rose Tyler kisses and the Doctor knows them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricks of the Metacrisis Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written from a [prompt](http://allrightfine.tumblr.com/post/31220990985/its-a-weird-of-trick-of-the-metacrisis-that-his), or, well, a request for more kissing fic.
> 
> * * *

It's a weird of trick of the metacrisis that his mind still reaches to process things like a Time Lord's, but all the input it receives is built for humans.

Trying to stop a brain freeze, trying to stop goosebumps, trying to stop blushing, hiccups, muscle cramps, _erections_ , the knowledge to do it all is still there, but his brain makes the circuit and his body refuses to respond.

He's got a sense of time and nowhere to put it (except during Tony's stay-over visits, where he agrees to the boy's suggestions of "five more minutes" and means it right down to the nanosecond).

He's got an instinct to cover himself warmly, layer, snuggle, bundle, never forget his coat, and with a body so much hotter, there's Rose in the morning, peeling the quilt away from the sweat-soaked and panting love of her life, as he dreams of saunas and Hylopia Prime, where you can quite literally boil an egg on the sidewalk.

He's got a filing system -- a _mental_ filing system -- that would put Torchwood's admin staff to shame. He knows _exactly_ when he last wore this shirt, thank you very much, Rose Tyler, and if he wants to wear it again three days later, well, it looks brilliant, doesn't it?

Sometimes though, it all shuts down, his mind and his body in perfect bliss, because there are six types of Rose Tyler kisses and the Doctor knows them all.

There's One. One is closed-mouth and dry and used in polite company. It's  _Hello_ and _Goodbye_ and _Good Luck on that presentation_. It's, well, he's not going to call it boring, it's just something he's gotten used to. (And there's that big Time Lord mind of his, tripping and stumbling and trying to process that there's _kissing_ , and he's _accustomed_ to it.)

There's Two. Sweet, with lips a little less tensed, two is usually where they start after ducking into a hallway at Vitex parties. Two is the sofa at the Tyler Mansion, before Tony wheels around in disgust and throws a stuffed giraffe at them. It's her bottom lip between the two of his, staggered together like building blocks, warm and soft and his mouth always chasing hers when she pulls away.

And, of course: Three. Oh, he likes Three. Three is when tongues get involved. There's levels of Three, repeating decimals and halves of halves of halves, lots of tongue, a little tongue. Hot and wet and a cable running right down him, coiling in his abdomen and pulling everything forward, closer to Rose. Three is where he starts making noises, little whimpers and moans and groans, needy sounds from the back of his throat as her fingers clutch at his hair and his hands span across her hips. He could spend his life there, at Three, and he celebrates it, happily singing along with Tony's DVD, _three, oh, three, it's a magic number_. Yes, it is.

Four is where the kissing isn't exactly linear, because Four is kissing with anything but lips to lips. Four can come at any time, cheeks and necks and lower, and lower. Four covers the most ground, Four covers the most _Rose_ , Four covers everything he can say now, but thought he never could, foreheads and noses and he loves her and he shows her. Four-ever, he'd tell Rose, if he thought she needed a pun.

Five. Five means _teeth_. There's Five with Three and Five with Four, and Five with Rose and a dash of aggression. Five and he's pinned to the mattress and she's rolling her hips, biting and nipping and sometimes he leaves the toothpaste uncapped just to wind her up, just so Five's a little rougher. He thinks she knows that, and she repays him in debriefs, running her tongue over her teeth, eyes locked on his. He almost never looks away.

Six is the sum of all the parts. Six in slow motion, Six sped up, from One to Five and back down again; Six is _everything_. 

(It's a weird of trick of the metacrisis that his mind still reaches to process things like a Time Lord's, but even it can't quantify what usually comes next.)

* * *


End file.
